The Vescari Heir and the Phantom Wife

Panic erupted instantly around the dining table.

"This is a forgery!" Marcus shouted, slamming his hands onto the table as he backed away toward the wall. "You have no proof! You can't touch us—our connections in the commission go deeper than you think, Roman!"

"Your connections in the commission are currently being dismantled by my enforcers as we speak," Roman replied coldly, not even blinking. "Victor Vance is under arrest at his safe house in Queens, and his cousin Robert is already singing like a canary about the financial payoffs he received from your shell companies."

Celeste realized the trap was completely sealed. Her facade of innocence shattered instantly, replaced by a desperate, snarling fury. She stood up, her chair crashing backward onto the floor.

"You fool!" Celeste shrieked, pointing a shaking finger directly at Roman. "You think you're so smart, don't you? You think you own everything! But you chose wrong! On that platform, when I told you to save me because I knew where the evidence was, you threw her away! You killed your own wife with your own arrogance!"

The room went dead silent.

Roman’s face tightened into a mask of pure agony and rage. He took a slow step forward, his fists clenching so hard his knuckles cracked.

"I didn't kill her," Roman whispered, his voice dangerously soft. "Because she’s standing right here."

Celeste whipped her head around to look at Aurora. Her eyes bulged with disbelief and horror. "No... no, that's impossible! The masked man confirmed—"

"The masked man was working for Victor Vance," Aurora interrupted, stepping closer to Celeste until they were only inches apart. "And you were stupid enough to trust a criminal with your dirty work. Every text message, every bank transfer, every forged prescription bottle you planted in my bag—it’s all recorded in the Vescari archives, backed up to three separate offshore servers that automatically release to federal prosecutors if either Roman or I stop breathing."

Celeste’s knees buckled. She grabbed the edge of the table to keep from collapsing, her breath coming in ragged, shallow gasps.

"Please..." Celeste whispered, looking frantically between Roman and Aurora. "Aurora, we're sisters... adoptive sisters... you can't do this..."

"Sisters?" Aurora laughed, a cold, humorless sound that lacked any warmth. "When you watched them put a rope around my neck, did you remember we were sisters? When you tried to steal my child's future, did you care about family?"

Aurora turned her back on Celeste and looked at Roman.